What Potent Blood
by little dark starling
Summary: The discovery of a bone washed up on the shores of Cape May, NJ, draws the team into re-investigating the case of a missing 1960s housewife. Meanwhile, Lilly and Scotty are still attempting to deal with the emotional fallout of Scotty's disastrous fling with Christina. Angst, drama, and romance, with a smattering of bad poetry thrown in, to hopefully make you laugh. Post-ep 2x22.


**What Potent Blood**

* * *

**AN: It's taken me awhile, but this new story is my first attempt at a case-fic. As you shall see, however (if you dare to continue reading, that is!), it is still very much LS-centric, because I just love that couple. It's set in season two, right after 'Best Friends' (2.22), and it sparked from some of my favorite moments in that episode. However, I have also taken some liberties with our ColdCase world, which you may or may not pick up on. The title of the fic is taken from a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 'May-Day,' and the title for this first chapter also comes from that same poem.**

**But that's enough from me here: please read on and enjoy the story. (And of course reviews are always appreciated!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cold Case ,nor any of the characters affiliated with the show.**

* * *

Chapter One: By lonely lakes

[_Suspicious Minds_ – Elvis Presley]

_Philadelphia, November 18, 1969_

_Night time. The dark sky is free of clouds and the moon sits snugly in its first quarter, serenely flanked by its vast mantle of twinkling stars. All is peaceful in the quiet suburban streets below; the warm orange glow emanating from behind closed drapes suggests comfort and security within, as do the well-maintained lawns and gardens of the neighborhood's stately homes, each set back at a dignified distance from the road. _

_A long dark car moves slowly along one such tree-lined avenue, eventually pulling up in front of an imposing two-storied house, the stuccoed walls of which gleam ivory in the moonlight. The curtained windows of this house are all dark, except for one solitary source of light burning from somewhere on the second floor. _

_A young woman exits the car and walks hurriedly up the long cobbled front path to the house, glancing anxiously back over her shoulder as she does so to watch the sleek vehicle pull smoothly away and disappear down the street. She nervously pats a hand over her sleek dark hair and mechanically adjusts her coat around a girlishly slim figure. Her pale pretty face is drawn, and under one arm she clutches a purse tightly, as if somehow afraid that object might attempt an escape and vanish forever into the night._

_Beneath the portico, she pauses for a moment, once more glancing behind her at the quiet scene that is her neighborhood devoid of its daytime activity and purpose. When all remains still and silent, she turns back to the front door, and with a small sigh and a brief expression of trepidation withdraws a key from her purse and inserts it into the lock. _

_The door opens quietly into a dim yet obviously sumptuous entrance hall. A soft glow descends the staircase leading from the hall to the upper floors, and gleams off the reflective surfaces of several large pieces of polished wooden furniture. Stepping inside and closing the door gently behind her, the woman unbuttons her coat and bends to remove her heeled shoes from her feet. As she straightens back up, heels dangling from one small hand, she catches sight of movement from the doorway to her right._

_A man emerges, stepping out in to the hall to confront her, his figure tall and somehow menacing in relation to her diminutive form. He reaches out with one hand and grasps her arm with a vicelike grip, causing her to step back and stumble a little, dropping a shoe._

"_Robert! Don't! You're hurting me. What are you doing?" Her voice is alarmed and yet still pleasantly low in tone._

"_What am I doing? What are you doing, Linda? It's nearly midnight and you're sneaking in the front door? Where have you been? With him?" He, too, speaks quietly, but with a forceful menace. Gripping her arm more firmly, he draws her to him._

_She pushes nervously at his chest. _

"_Him? What him? I was at Julia's house, Robert, and then there was a problem with the car. We had to wait until her husband got home. I didn't-"_

"_Why do you keep lying to me? God, I don't know if I can take it anymore, Linda." He lets go of her and turns away, hitting the doorframe sharply with the palm of one hand and then briefly resting his forehead on it._

_She takes a step after him._

"_Robert? I'm not lying to you, Robert, I swear." Without even a glance in her direction, her pushes back from the doorframe and disappears into the room beyond. She listens to his retreating footsteps for a moment and then moves to follow him, before stopping abruptly and turning back to the staircase. A small round face topped with dark curls is just visible peeping through the banisters beside the topmost step._

"_Mikey? What are you doing still awake, my darling?" She climbs the stairs towards the child, a tired smile on her face. "I'm sorry if we woke you, sweetheart. Mummy and Daddy were just talking."_

* * *

_At the far end of a scrubby promontory, a tall cliff falls sharply away to the jagged rocks and angry water below. Upon these vicious points, lies the broken body of Linda Morris, her head twisted cruelly to one side, her limbs bent awkwardly at unnatural angles. As time passes, the waves creep up and over her body, that once perfect hair now a dark rippling mass, fanning out and undulating in the in-coming tide. Eventually, once completely covered by water, the body slips off the rocks and disappears._

* * *

Philadelphia, May, 2005

Detective Lilly Rush slammed the front door of her townhouse firmly closed behind her and set off at a brisk pace down the steps and across the pavement to the idling silver sedan waiting at the curb. It was a fine spring morning, and, despite the earliness of the hour, several other commuters were also already up and about, heading off to their various jobs in the city. Lilly smiled and nodded to a couple whom she knew by sight, before reaching for the passenger-door handle of the car and pulling it open. She loved her neighborhood. The little row-houses, with their near-identical structural facings, were all nevertheless brightly painted in their individual colors, and the effect was especially cheerful on a sunny morning like today; in addition, their residents were equally friendly, without being too in-your-face about it for a naturally reticent person as Lilly knew herself to be. It was a neighborhood that suited her perfectly, and she wouldn't live anywhere else for the world.

"Morning, Scotty," she greeted her partner, sliding into the front seat beside him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the takeaway cup in the holder nearest to her, its curls of inviting steam rising up to tease her with the delicious aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans. She reached for it. "Thanks, Valens. You must've read my mind."

Scotty Valens grinned across at her from the driver's seat, enjoying her look of pleasure as she closed her eyes and took that first blissful sip. "That's not too difficult, Rush. You do live on the stuff, after all. Besides," he continued, his eyes crinkling at the corners with cheeky amusement, "it's a coupla hours' drive down to Cape May, an' I sure don't wanna be stuck in close quarters wi' you for that amount o' time when you ain't had your mornin' fix."

She opened her eyes again to glare at him, but a soft smile remained in residence on her lips. Reaching across the center console, she smacked him lightly on the arm, before resetting the cup in its holder and buckling on her seatbelt.

"Careful, Valens, or I'll pull rank and insist on driving."

"No way that's happen'n," he released the parking brake in a hurry and pulled out into the street with hasty yet smooth acceleration. "We wanna be there before lunchtime."

Given that it was not yet 7.30am, Lilly considered making another smart retort, but settled instead for reclaiming her coffee and settling back comfortably in her seat. Complain as she might about Scotty's fast driving, she always felt perfectly safe in the car with him, and, though she'd never admit it to him, even enjoyed the necessary relinquishment of control once in a while. Closing her eyes once more, and bringing the cup of hot liquid to her lips, she smiled to herself, pleased that they seemed to be getting back to the easy friendship that had once characterized their relationship, before…

Her eyes snapped back open as the mental wheels in her brain slammed on their brakes. That subject was still too painful, even merely to think about.

Dammit, Scotty, she thought to herself for what was probably the thousandth time, of all the people you could have chosen.

"Everythin' okay, Lil?" her partner's voice found its way through her thoughts, a hint of concern evident in his tone.

She gave herself a quick mental shake and turned to smile at him. She hoped it didn't come across as too forced; he was trying, after all, what with the coffee and the jokes.

"Yeah, just thinkin' about the case." She reached down to the bag at her feet and withdrew a brown folder from its depths. "You think this forensic evidence the CMPD picked up is really from our missing 60s housewife?"

"Seems so," he replied. "Guess the question is, how did she get down there? Bit of a long trip for someone who don't drive."

"Hmmm," Lilly mused, flicking through pieces of paper until she located a map. Unfolding it, she continued, "well, the theory the coast guard is suggesting is that she entered the Delaware somewhere up our end, and drifted all the way down to the bay. Bits of her, anyway. Can't be much left after all this time. Just luck that femur washed up the way it did with all the rest of the storm debris."

She pulled out a photo from its place behind the map, and leaned forward to study it. A strand of blonde hair escaped her up-do, tickling her cheek, and she tucked it back behind her ear impatiently. "They're trawling the bay, but it's not likely anything more will show up. Just too much area to cover."

She sighed and leant her head back, fighting a sudden onset of light nausea. Replacing the file and its contents hastily in her bag, she lowered the window a small way and took a few grateful gulps of fresh air.

"You feelin' okay," Scotty asked, as he deftly maneuvered their vehicle into the free-flowing traffic on the expressway. He made as if to reach his hand across and touch her shoulder, but seemed to change his mind halfway, replacing it instead on the steering wheel and flexing his fingers against the rubberized grip.

"Yeah, sorry," she scrolled the window back up, and tried to smile reassuringly at him. "I should know better than to try reading in the car. I'll be okay in a minute."

"You want me to pull over?"

"Scotty, we're on the expressway, so, no. I told you, I'm fine. Just gonna look out the window for a while." She turned away from him, suddenly incredibly frustrated by his questioning and by that concerned look on his face. Pushing these uncharitable thoughts from her mind, however, she tried to focus instead on the scenery passing swiftly by outside the window.

They travelled in silence like this for several minutes until Scotty's phone beeped loudly. Pulling it from his pocket and flipping it open, he read the message quickly and gave an exasperated laugh.

"Damn Vera. Read that," he handed his phone to Lilly, who took it, grateful for the distraction from the increasingly uncomfortable atmosphere. Or so it seemed to her, anyway. Her fingers brushed his and an inexplicable shiver danced across her skin and down her spine.

"What rhymes with embrace?" she ignored the troublesome sensation and read aloud from the screen, rolling her eyes and unable to help the smile blossoming on her face as she met Scotty's equally amused grin. "Now I really am going to be sick. Someone's gotta tell him he's never gonna make it as a poet, before we all die a slow and very painful death. I mean, we closed that Doucette case a week ago already."

"Someone _has_ told 'im. A number o' times, in fact. But you know our Nicky: once he's got an idea in his head…" Scotty let his sentence trail off.

"Yeah, it's gotta run its course," she finished for him. "Well, what do you want me to reply? Lace? Face? Mace? … No, wait, space, since that's what we really need from him right now." She began to type industriously. "Also, database, so that maybe, just maybe, his mind might turn to some actual work for a change."

"Mace? Database? That's some real romantic language you got goin' on there, Lil."

"It is when we're trying to solve a murder."

* * *

Approximately four hours later, they were emerging from the Cape May police station into brilliant midday sunshine, in the company of one of that department's detectives, James Mitchell.

"So, you folks want to drive on down to the Point with me? I'll drop you back for your car later this afternoon. Save you gettin' lost in our myriad of streets." He winked at Lilly, and she smiled a little uncertainly back at him, before nodding. He was definitely good-looking, she thought, in a handsome, blonde, very self-assured way, but she couldn't help finding his confidence a little overbearing. Still, it wouldn't hurt to take advantage of the proffered hospitality.

In the car-park, Detective Mitchell opened the passenger door of a truck with the CMPD insignia printed on the side, and gallantly ushered Lilly into her seat with a hand under her elbow, leaving Scotty to open the rear door for himself and clamber in. He did so, glowering a little at the overly-chivalrous attitude this man was taking with his partner. And Lil was allowing it, for Christ's sake. What was with that? She'd never let him help her into a car in such a way, not that he'd ever dare.

As the truck and its three occupants headed down towards the beach, Mitchell kept up a colorful onslaught of questions and comments, addressed primarily to Lilly.

"If I can draw your attention to the left, Detective," he spoke up, after about five minutes of driving, "you'll see we have our very own Lily here in the Cape. The lake," he prompted, seeing Lilly's look of confusion. "Lake Lily. Named, of course, for the abundance of water-lilies that can be found growing on it. In fact, we locals have just completed a restoration project down there."

"It's beautiful," Lilly responded, gazing out at the picturesque scene. It was indeed a lovely view, with the sparkling blue of the water twinkling shyly through the trees at her.

"If you're around for a couple of days, I'd love to take you down there," Mitchell continued, his eyes raking Lilly's turned cheek in a way that was making Scotty feel increasingly like socking him. "There are some lovely nature walks, lots of birdlife."

Lilly Rush nature-walking, now that would be a sight, Scotty thought to himself, successfully holding out against the urge to laugh aloud.

"We'll see," Lilly replied, rather shortly he was pleased to note. "I'm guessing we'll be a bit busy for sight-seeing."

"One should always take the time to smell the roses, even in the crime-fighting business," the other detective smiled smoothly at her with two rows of perfect white teeth, as he pulled in to a gravel car-park, beyond which the blue of the sea could be glimpsed beneath the clear sky. Lilly took the opportunity of getting hurriedly out of the car without replying, already imagining the smirk sure to be gracing her partner's expression. Upon glancing back at him, however, she was disconcerted by the ugly scowl drawing his brows together in a dark V-shape. She sent him a questioning look of her own, but he was already turning away, slamming his door shut and setting off towards the beach and the area of light sand cordoned off by yellow police-tape. Shrugging her shoulders, she too rounded the vehicle and joined Mitchell, who was waiting to escort her down to the scene.

The day had started out so well, too, and yet she could already sense that this was going to be a long trip. Still, all they had to do was ascertain that this bone had indeed not originated from down this way, and they would be back in Philadelphia in no time.

* * *

The bar was crowded and noisy, with a live band belting out popular covers to a packed dance floor only a couple of meters from where Scotty sat nursing a scotch. He hunched his shoulders irritably and tried to will away the headache he could feel building at his temples. One stool over, Detective Mitchell signaled to the girl behind the bar for another beer and then turned to the somewhat morose man seated alongside him.

"So, Valens, can I ask you somethin'?"

'Hmm?" Scotty turned his body slightly in the direction of the other detective by way of response to the question. He didn't really feel like making polite conversation, but then again he couldn't exactly ignore the man either. Mitchell seemed a nice enough guy, after all; he just wished the man would stop looking at his partner like she was a piece of meat. Scotty was used to guys checking Lilly out, of course – that was what happened when you went around with a woman as beautiful as Lil was – but it didn't usually affect him like it seemed to be doing right now.

"I wouldn't happen to be treading on any toes here, would I?" Mitchell asked.

"What d'ya mean?" Scotty replied, a little gruffly. He took another sip of scotch, reveling in the liquid's silky texture as he swallowed it down. His headache seemed to be easing somewhat, to his immense relief.

Mitchell patted the empty stool between them.

"With our lovely Detective Rush, is what I mean. You and she aren't… I mean, if I'm interfering in anythin'…"

"Whaa-?" Scotty took a larger than expected gulp from his glass and found himself having to cough loudly to clear his throat. "Nah, man, we're just partners."

He avoided the other man's gaze and found himself watching the dancers instead. One young woman, clearly halfway to being intoxicated, stumbled and nearly fell as she led her friend across the floor, presumably to the ladies' restroom. As he observed their tottering progress towards the back of the bar, Scotty's eyes fell on a familiar slim figure making her own more sober way back towards them.

"Just partners," he repeated, dragging his eyes away from Lilly, and bringing them back to the polished surface of the bar in front of him. He signaled the girl for another whiskey and began to swirl his finger through the drop of moisture left behind by his empty glass.

"Well, thank heavens for that," Mitchell said, rising to his feet just as Lilly came up beside them.

"Thank heavens for what?" she asked, reaching for her beer and moving to take a seat beside Scotty. He couldn't help but lean in a little as the subtle fragrance of her perfume infiltrated his senses.

"Your partner here says you love to dance," Mitchell exclaimed, plucking the bottle from her hand and replacing it on the bar. Before she could do anything to stop him, he then positioned one arm around her waist and whisked her over to join the other dancers.

"Mitchell!" Scotty heard her protest, unconvincingly, to his ears at least, and, as he couldn't help watching them, he soon saw her smiling and laughing as the blond man whirled her about energetically amongst the other moving bodies.

Scotty vaguely recognized the ugly emotion beginning to take root in the depths of his stomach, and attempted to drown it in another mouthful of alcohol. He was then forcefully struck by the uncomfortable memory of other nights spent in other bars, in vain attempts to rid his mind of other feelings.

And the woman who'd been in those bars right alongside him.

He hastily drained his drink and slammed the empty glass down, shaking his head at the barmaid when she questioningly gestured a refill.

_Screw this_, he thought to himself, as the music's tempo slowed and he saw Mitchell pull Lilly closer into his arms. _I sure as hell ain't stickin' around to watch this_.

Just then, a slurred but feminine voice spoke up from beside his elbow.

"You look lonely, handsome. Interest you in a dance?" The drunken woman he'd witnessed earlier was now standing beside him, looking at him from large, somewhat glazed, blue eyes, as she lay her hand on his arm. Up close, she looked much younger than she had before, little more than a girl, and her face was plastered heavily with make-up. A thick cloying perfume assaulted his nostrils.

"Nah, but thanks anyway," he replied, looking away from her and standing up. He threw a few bills down on the bar, before shrugging on his jacket.

"Suit yourself." She turned away from Scotty, took a few unsteady steps, and draped her arm across the shoulders of another man seated just along the bar. He heard her voice the same flirtatious request in this new ear, and smiled wryly as the other man grinned at his mate and stood up. Then, without another glance at them, or at the other couple already on the dance floor, he proceeded to walk out of the bar.

Outside, the night air was cool relief on his heated skin. He took a couple of deep refreshing breaths to steady himself, and began to walk in the direction of their motel, luckily only a couple of blocks away. All he wanted right now was to lie down on the bed in his room, close his eyes, and surrender to sweet oblivion.

Sidestepping a group of other pedestrians, he felt a sudden vibrating sensation from within his pocket, and pulled out his phone to read the accompanying text message. He groaned upon recognizing the sender's name: Vera.

c c c c

Since you cut me off from your embrace,

Packed a bag and sent me, also, packing,

I can't help but miss the contours of your face,

Which once I traced with loving hand; ransacking

My heart to leave it stripped, empty, bare,

You took from me also my soul: that piece

Of me I gave to you, no thought yet of despair.

Now, I live each day a pain that will not cease.

c c c c

By the time he reached the end of the message, Scotty's face also wore a pained expression. He dialed Vera's number.

"Hey, Scotty," he heard on the other end of the line, "so, what'd you think? Should I show it to her yet? I was going for a sonnet, you know, fourteen lines, but eight's as far as I got."

"Woah, woah, Nick, hold up," Scotty interrupted his colleague's speech, before pressing the phone and a tightly clenched fist to his mouth for a brief moment. "It's, ah, well it rhymes… and, it's full've, you know, emotion an' all. Which is good." Here he hesitated.

"Yeah, but d'ya think it'll do the trick? Get me back in Julie's good books? I know she's let me back in the house, but…"

"I dunno, Nick. I mean, it's pretty…"

"Yeah? Pretty what, Valens? Look, is Lil there? Maybe I need a woman's perspective on this."

"Actually, she's, ah… I think she's asleep already," Scotty blurted out, instantly regretting it a second later. "Look, how 'bout I give it to her to read tomorrow, and she can give you a call, Nick? We're seein' the coroner in the mornin' anyways, so chances are we won't 'ave no reason to stay down here another night." I hope not anyway, he muttered on under his breath.

"Yeah, okay, buddy, thanks anyway," Vera sighed heavily down the line. "Talk to you tomorrow then."

"Night." Scotty ended the call, and as he did so he realized that at some point during the conversation, he had come to a complete halt and was now standing stock still in the middle of the pavement. A couple, having to weave their way around him, gave him a rude look, and the woman whispered something in her boyfriend's ear, causing him to laugh. Scotty glared back, but they had already moved on. He, too, continued on his way, somehow even more depressed now than he had been before Vera's poetic interruption.

As he unlocked the door to his motel room, however, his gloom momentarily gave way to a small chuckle. He could just imagine what Lilly's reaction was going to be when she read that poem tomorrow.

Then he glowered again. Just where was he going to find Lil, in the morning, in order to show her the damn thing in the first place?


End file.
